


More than Mistletoe

by WakeUpDreaming



Series: Holidays 2018: I'm going to actually do it this time [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Banter, F/F, I don't know how to tag this, Lol hey there, Mistletoe, fancy party, holiday nonsense, holiday party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: There's a holiday party at some fancy friend of the McLean's, and Piper convinces Annabeth to come. Innuendo intended.





	More than Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> This is a poor fill of the prompt, "Pipabeth eith the song flashlight by parliament? *eyebrow wiggle*" but I really emphasized the eyebrow wiggle, so I hope this counts.

“Come on,” Piper whines, grabbing at Annabeth’s hand, “seriously, you can’t think I’m going to believe that you’d rather sleep.”

“I would,” Annabeth grumbles, but not exactly hating the way Piper’s holding her hand, “I always would rather sleep.”

Piper groans, and Annabeth feels her sit down on the bed next to her, the mattress sinking beneath her. Annabeth knows what comes next. She always does. It’s why she pretends she’d rather sleep than go to one of Piper’s dad’s parties with her.

“There will be free food,” Piper says, her lips close to Annabeth’s ear. It sends shivers down her spine, but she tries to hide them. “Free booze. Me,” she drags her lips up the shell of Annabeth’s ears, and this time Annabeth can’t hold back the shiver, “in a suit.” She laughs. “Maybe even me out of a suit.”

“I could get that right here,” Annabeth says, and she rolls over to see Piper, dressed in a big hoodie from Columbia, one of Annabeth’s old ones, and a pair of Santa Claus boxers. “Okay. Well. Half of this outfit is sexy.”

“You think Santa isn’t hot?” Piper asks. She stands up, gesturing to herself, “the man landed Mrs. Claus, and she’s not going to be sticking around for a slouch.”

Annabeth rolls over. “You have the weirdest brain.”

“Says Miss ‘Sorry I missed your calls – I was busy designing a Greek paradise in Sim City.’”

“Plenty of people do that!”

Something in the arch of Piper’s eyebrow makes Annabeth think her defense is weak, but she won’t accept it. All fifteen people in her classical architecture class love that game.

“Sure, babe,” Piper says, patting her on the head. “Well, if you plan on getting up any time soon, I’ll be in the shower.” She turns, and her wink is goofy and garish and, damn it, so hot. “You’re welcome to join. Or to," she winks again, "come, too.”

All it takes is for Annabeth to hear the water running, and she’s out of bed in an instant.

*

“You’re sure this isn’t too low cut?” Annabeth asks, fiddling with the neckline. The draping is weird, and makes it look like her usually minimal chest is about four times as big. And, because of that, she’s getting looks. At lot of them.

Piper, who hasn’t taken her eyes off of Annabeth since she walked out of the bathroom, kisses her on the shoulder, the highest point she can reach, even in her own heels. Annabeth is particularly concerned about the stilettos Piper insisted on. “You’re hot as hell, and I want everybody to know it and be jealous,” Piper says, a little haughty. “If I’m stuck in the limelight, I’m going to do it being the luckiest gay to ever gay.”

“You can say that again,” Annabeth says, “your eyes have been going between my butt and my boobs all night.”

Piper gets a little moony eyed. “I know. Aren’t they great?”

Annabeth lets out a little huff of laughter that cuts off in moments. The limo’s arrived, and she has to figure out how to get into this damned car without flashing her back or front to, well, anyone.

“I’ve got you covered from the back,” Piper says. “See, this is why I wear the suits. I look good in suits, and I can make sure nobody gets a look up your skirt. Multitasking formal wear.”

“You look great in suits,” Annabeth corrects. She makes room for Piper on the seat next to her, but Piper just lands in Annabeth’s lap.

“Johnson, you don’t mind the partition?” Piper says. “Ms. Chase’s nerves are a little fried.”

Johnson, who has ungodly patience and willpower, just says, “Of course, Ms. McLean,” like he isn’t being scammed out of his goddamned mind, and rolls up the partition.

When it’s closed, Annabeth looks up at Piper. Those goddamned eyes are hungry, locked on her face. Lips, eyes, nose, eyes, mouth. It doesn’t matter to Piper, it seems. And then there’s Annabeth, who can’t take her eyes off of Piper’s.

“Is this a good time to tell you I’m not wearing underwear?” Annabeth asks. Because she just fucking has to.

They go around a turn, and Piper falls right the hell off of Annabeth’s lap.

“You can’t just drop information like that, you monster!” Piper exclaims.

The partition goes down, just a tiny bit. “Ms. McLean, is everything alright back there?”

“Yes, thanks, Johnson,” Annabeth says, “Piper just got a little swept off her feet.”

“Oh, you little shit,” Piper grumbles, climbing up into the seat next to Annabeth’s. “I’ll get you back for that at the party. Just you wait.”

“Oh yeah?” Annabeth asks, because, fuck, does she love Piper’s ideas of revenge. “Try me. Give me the worst you’ve got.”

Piper’s grin goes predatory, her eyes narrow. God, what Annabeth would do to be in her head right now. “Oh, don’t worry, baby,” Piper says, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’ll get the worst.”

*

Piper’s arm stays around Annabeth’s waist as they walk into the party, cameras flashing like lightning around them, and Annabeth jolts back a little bit to that one time Jason nearly electrocuted all the fish out of camp lake because he and Percy were getting it on in a canoe and neither of them were paying attention to the thunderstorm they were creating.

It also reminds her of the time they fought giants and all almost died, so, you know. Not always the best memories.

She feels Piper’s grip tighten around her waist, a gentle, steady reminder that she’s got her, that she can always count on Piper.

She relaxes when she walks in the door, because, right there, is mistletoe.

“Ready to be cliché as fuck?” Piper asks. There’s sheer giddy joy in her eyes.

Annabeth shrugs. “Cliché is what we are, right?” She leans in right as the door closes, kissing Piper as the paparazzi get just the hint of the kiss behind their cameras.

*

She’d thought Piper had forgotten about her promise to get Annabeth back. It’s been a busy party and a busy night, what with the people and the schmoozing and the alcohol and the particularly magnificent bruschetta that Annabeth is still trying to wrap her head around.

She’s wrong, though, because Piper McLean doesn’t forget a damned thing. And she’s proving it by the way her hands are crawling up Annabeth’s dress right now. She muses, faintly, through the haze of want and need and now, if this is why Piper picked a dress with a slit halfway up the thigh. Clearly it had a practical purpose and was not simply aesthetic. That’s her girl, she thinks, always thinking past the obvious.

“Ms. Chase,” asks one of Mr. McLean’s business partners, just as Piper’s hand finds its bullseye. Annabeth jumps, just a little, and it’s not because of being addressed by somebody with a stupid fucking monocle. “How have you and Piper known each other?”

“Oh, you know,” she sucks in a breath as Piper’s finger starts tiny circles and, fuck, she knows exactly what to do to get Annabeth’s head spinning. _Say you met at summer camp_ , the last sane piece of her brain tells her, _for fuck’s sake, Chase, you’re smarter than everyone here, you can get around a little touch under the dinner table_. “Summer school.” They all look at her. “Summer camp,” she corrects, and she’d kick Piper if she hadn’t been doing that thing with her hand that she KNOWS drives Annabeth up the wall. “Summer camp, not summer school.”

“So friends for a long time,” his wife, Annabeth assumes, adds. “That’s so sweet! Bart and I have known each other since college,” she beams over at him. “When we heard Piper had a girlfriend, we were just so glad you could come.”

Piper snickers.

“What’s so funny, Piper?” Annabeth asks, because she can play this game.

“She didn’t even want to get out of bed,” Piper says, covering, and, fuck, Annabeth can play, but Piper usually wins. “I’m glad she came, too.” Annabeth is watching her carefully, because Piper’s keeping the best pokerface when she’s got her hands up Annabeth’s dress. She’s even still eating with her left hand like it’s nothing.

But Annabeth will hold out. She’ll be fine. She can do this.

Her resolve lasts ten minutes, when she’s close but not close enough, because Piper slows her hands every time Annabeth is about to reach that point of no return. Annabeth is about ready to fuck her on the table or hit her with the bowl of sherbet.

“Piper,” Annabeth says, and she can feel her cheeks flushing red, “I need to use the restroom. Could you show me the way?”

“Of course,” Piper says, and her relaxed smile nearly kills Annabeth on the fucking spot.

Annabeth has to recite Pi up to twenty-four digits to keep herself from jumping Piper in the hallway, but Piper caves first. She seems to know this fancy place, and turns Annabeth at a joint in the hallway, shoving her into a room with a hand on her waist. It’s not a second before Annabeth has Piper pressed against the wall. She’s thankful for the suit in that moment, because she’s able to pick Piper up, her hands gripping her thighs, and, finally, Piper is Annabeth’s height. Their lips meet with a glimpse of fire, and Annabeth finally feels like there might be a release to the coil of heat inside of her.

“You goddamn tease,” Annabeth laughs against Piper’s lips.

Piper just whimpers a little bit into Annabeth’s mouth. “I was about to cave,” she murmurs, “babe, if you hadn’t – I just want to –” She pushes Annabeth away and pulls her toward the couch. Before Annabeth has finished saying, “Please,” Piper’s got her seated on the edge of the couch, legs over her shoulders, dress hiked up around her waist.

Piper had her well wound up, and it takes less than a minute before Annabeth feels it hit her like a wave, and she thinks her vision blacks out a little. She nearly blacks out again when she sees Piper look up at her and grin.

She doesn’t give Piper satisfaction for too long, because she has Piper up against the wall in a second, her lips at Piper’s pulse point and her hand in Piper’s pants.

Piper, apparently, has been just as wound up as Annabeth, because it takes a couple minutes and a little bit of creative dirty talk, and then Piper’s babbling nonsense mixed with Annabeth’s name against the wall. Annabeth has to press her even more against the wall to make sure Piper doesn’t fall down, because that thud might be a little hard to explain.

She doesn’t have to worry about a thud, though, because what’s really hard to explain is her hand down Piper’s pants to Bart and his wife.

Who are also all over each other. Monocle be damned, apparently.

“Room’s taken,” Annabeth quips, deliberately not making eye contact as she withdraws her hand. Piper’s still a little stupid, as she always is for about five minutes after getting her brain melted. “Please try again later.”

When the older couple leaves, she can swear she hears old Bart say, “Guess there was a little more than mistletoe in that room.”


End file.
